


What I Hoped I Would Never Unravel

by Witch_Of_Letters



Series: What I Hoped I Would Never... [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood and Violence, Character Death, Drama & Romance, Explicit Language, F/M, Friendship/Love, Implied/Referenced Torture, Psychological Torture, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-08-11 12:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16475273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_Of_Letters/pseuds/Witch_Of_Letters
Summary: You, Y/N Ryder, are the most notorious and dangerous witch/huntress in the US, who alongside the Winchesters, is trying to save the world from the evil that was unleashed when the Mark of Cain was no more. Your past holds many secrets that you had never hoped you would discover. Can you find them out, and hold back Amara before it becomes too late?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I've been on a looooong hiatus (and honestly I can't say I'll be writing more frequently - 'cause school sucks *ahem*), but I'm back now, so I've decided to try my hand at writing for the SPN fandom. This my first SPN fic so please, enjoy! 
> 
> A HUGE ‘Thank you’ to my wonderful Beta (who so generously offered to help me with this) - (tumblr) @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 ! 
> 
> My Tumblr: @witch-of-letters

Silence filled the Impala. As you and Dean were riding towards an abandoned bar in the middle of nowhere, you couldn’t help but think about all the things that have happened in your 27 years of life. You were young, sure, and yet, you’ve seen and experienced more things than one could think was possible.

When you looked at Dean, you saw the sadness and hopelessness in his eyes - something that should have been reflected in your own, but instead was replaced by a mask of calm and nonchalance. It was how you were trained to act - how you were able to survive in a world full of supernatural.

You took his cold hand in yours, a gesture that you hoped would comfort him, however small it was. Having confessed your feelings to each other only recently - on that one day of peace and calm - you knew how hard it was to keep your minds focused on the task ahead. You had absolutely no idea if you would come out of this alive. 

* * *

“You still remember how we met?” you quietly asked as you looked at the endless road before you. Dean let out a quiet chuckle.

“Of course.” He looked toward you with the sparkle of nostalgia in his eyes, “You were there, working on a case at Bobby’s, trying to figure out what kind of monster you were dealing with. Me being my charming 26-year-old self, I couldn’t help but be baffled at that sight - a damn British kid being an active hunter!”

You scoffed playfully: “I wasn’t a kid, mate! Not since I left the UK anyway…” 

* * *

It was true. You were born across the Atlantic Ocean to a powerful natural witch and a veteran hunter from a feared family of hunters - the Ryders. While you didn’t know the exact reason why your father left the US, you knew that it was partially due to protecting your heavily pregnant mother - pregnant with you.

Once they had settled down in the UK, your father, Alec, was approached by an agent of the British Men of Letters, asking him to join them, as his family was too a part of their secret society. Your father thought hard about. Bringing your mother with him into their fold would be too risky and could potentially result in all of your deaths. He had no alternatives - this was the only chance to keep you, his only daughter, alive.

For the first twelve years of your life you grew up peacefully in a quiet but very beautiful countryside, a few kilometres away from Birmingham. While it was difficult for your mother to teach you any magic, having developed the powers in your infancy, she did so anyway. “Damn all the risks!” she would exclaim to your father when he expressed concern. You didn’t know how, but it was surprisingly easy to master all the spells she had taught you, however unusual that was. You knew that those powers had to be used only for good. You would never dare to try to cause chaos and destruction with them - not intentionally at the very least.

Your father, on the other hand, trained you as a hunter, giving you all the lessons that you would need in your life - shooting, hand-to-hand combat, driving, lockpicking - hell, even hacking. Essentially, they made you into an unstoppable huntress. You were ready for anything that could come your way, be it a monster or a human. That being said, both of your parents never lied to you about what lurked out there in the night, deciding that it was best for you to know all about them. This, however, didn’t mean that you didn’t have a happy childhood at all. You were closest to your father, always willing to speak to him about anything and everything, but you still loved your mother - even though at times her being a great mystery to you because of all the secrecy behind her past.

Soon, however, this ‘happiness’ came to an end. Alec had slipped up by releasing an monster, that was actually innocent, back into the world of humans. One of the BMoL’s covert agents discovered that, and reported it to Dr. Hess, their _de facto_ leader. Wasting no time on hearing his justifications, they executed him, making him an example for everyone present. Your mother packed all of your things, and you left the mansion you were living in. Leaving behind everything that was once dear to you. But the damn bastards proved to be more perceptive of the things around them, and found out that your mother was a Witch of the Light - one that does not use dark powers. Before you two had a chance to leave the UK on a ship, your mother was shot in the head, by a young Arthur Ketch himself no less. A bastard that you would forever hate.

This was all you could remember from that time - having been too shocked to remember anything else. You wanted to forget what had happened, and so you did, but somewhere in the dark corners of your mind, those memories were still present - supressed but still there.

Bobby was the one to take you in, having no idea how a 12-year-old could have crossed the ocean all on her own, and ride here, to his junkyard of all places. At first you were reluctant to tell him your story, but knowing that you had no other choice, you told him anyway. Being an experienced hunter himself, it was rather easy for him to believe all the things you had said. He was curious about the Men of Letters, having heard some rumours about them, but never actually trying to find out if they were true. He never really wanted to take care of a kid but seeing as you were an orphan, a kid without any remaining relatives to take custody of you, he took you in.

At first you called him by his first name only - Bobby this, Bobby that - but after spending three years around him, the word ‘father’ slipped so easily from your mouth as if it was so natural. You still remember that day, him becoming all teary-eyed at hearing that. You would never forget how he helped you grow up into a fine young woman a ton of skills and that one-of-a-kind charm.

But then you met _the Winchesters_. 

* * *

“Oh, yeah…that. I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean for it to come out of my mouth”. You shook your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. You weren’t there. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have said anything. I know you have told me that story before but I didn’t want to remind you of the bad memories,” he quietly spoke. While he was right - the memories _were_ bad - you had no problem with talking about them. After all, it happened such a long time ago that it wasn’t painful to speak about your family at all anymore. You still appreciated Dean’s concern of you. You always did.

“Eh, it doesn’t bother me anymore,” you reassured him,”but I digress. When I saw you looking at me as though I had grown another head, I thought that I actually _had_ grown another head!” Both of you let out a chuckle. The memory _was_ funny.

“Well, I was really surprised that Bobby let a teen hunt all on her own, _without_ any supervision whatsoever!”

“Sammy, on the other hand, was so chill that I thought he was so unemotional, and probably a serial-killer of somekind,” you playfully whispered at the end. You knew that he was in that state because of Jess’ death but despite that, you still got along pretty well, and soon enough, you became pretty inseparable.

Dean laughed harder,”Oh, that was _so_ true!” The inside of the car became silent again, both of you falling deep into your own thoughts, wondering what would happen next.

After curing Dean of being a demon, you asked him to give the Mark over to yourself - to free him from the constant moodiness, anger, and frustration over things that he couldn’t do, or prevent from happening. You just couldn’t watch him become that man again - a man who was spiraling down into nothingness. You still remember _that_ conversation. 

* * *

_**Flashback (half a year ago)** _

_“Dean, please! Let me help!” you shouted at him, hoping to get through that thick skull of his. It made sense that he wouldn’t give you the Mark. He did not want you to get hurt, or worse, for you to become a Knight of Hell. He didn’t want to watch someone he loved wreak havoc upon the world because of him, but his stubbornness was getting ridiculous. He was very protective of you but not to the point of not letting you go on hunts because in all honesty - you were way better than both him and Sam. In his own words anyway…_

_You’ve had that argument before, the discussions turning into shouting matches that Sam (and a few times Cas) had to resolve, but this time, Dean was too tired to raise his voice at you - not that you would back off if he did yell at you again._

_“You know why I don’t want you to have this thing, Y/N/N,” he spoke in that familiar raspy tone of his, that usually made you feel all warm and loved, but this time, it only conveyed that unmistakable sadness._

_You sighed in frustration,”I do. But I can still help you, Dean. If you let me transfer it over to myself, I will try my hardest to carry it without being corrupted by it.”_

_“Oh, and you trying to help me before - keeping the Mark from corrupting me with your magic? That did not help me in any way!”_

_“But-”_

_“No buts there, Y/N! Keeping it at bay drowned you of your powers - made you all weak! Hell, you looked like you were about to die…,” Dean’s voice cracked at the end. You fell silent. You honestly had no idea that it had affected him so deeply, to the point of devastation over your would-be ‘death’. But it was because he considered you family, even if your feelings were unrequited - at least you thought they were._

_“My original plan was to take it without your knowledge or approval. Sounds selfish, I know, but at least my heart would be at peace, knowing that you were finally safe from it. I also intended to study that thing further, figuring out how it really worked and such. A new spell would have to be created, one that would help me keep it calm and silent. But I obviously couldn’t do that, since it was, or is, still on your arm,” you finished dryly. He was looking at you with a mix of wonder and surprise. He always considered you to be the smartest of you three - hell, even Sam did, despite him reading way more books than any of you._

_He stepped closer to you. You took his right arm in yours, silently looking up at him, asking for a permission. The turmoil behind his eyes was obvious - he wanted to get rid of it, but not by giving it to his best friend, a woman that was always there when he or Sam needed help, always there when the world or the problems became too much for him to bear. He didn’t want to see you die. Not before he had a chance to…_

_“Alright. While I really hate doing this, alright, I will give it to you. You would probably be better at staying calm with this thing on you anyway…,” he spoke resignedly, his face now emotionless but his eyes betraying him nonetheless._

_“I would certainly try to be better at it. I did not learn all there is to know about magic for nothing!” With that, you pulled him into a warm hug, one that he welcomed. He was never much of a hugger, as John raised him to be a compliant little soldier, but he always accepted them from you, even when he was mad at something…or someone._

_“True enough,” was his quiet answer. You knew that from now on you would have to try harder to search for a real solution, come what may. At least, Dean would finally be safe from it.  
_

* * *

_**Present** _

The day was slowly beginning to end - hues of orange everywhere in the sky - but you still had work to do.

To have a final meeting with _Death_.


	2. Chapter I - Is Death still an option?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to write a comment/feedback. That's what keeps me going! :)

“How much longer till we make it?” inquired Dean. The drive was getting too long indeed. Putting up your pointing finger, you pulled out your phone to access Google Maps.

“About 30 or so kilometres,” you answered in a calm manner. You’ve been in the United States for fifteen years, and yet, you’re still refusing to use American terminology.

“English, please.”

“About 19 miles,” you sighed, “Not too far now.” 

* * *

 

“I know I’ve already asked you this, but are you sure this is the right way? You going out like this?” After the Mark jumped over to you, he became more adamant about getting rid of it. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his behaviour, because after all, you _did_ warn him about the consequences for becoming its new host.

“The words I’m about to say sound so usual right now, but I _have to_ do it, Dean. There is another way to lose it, there always is, but it’s not an option right now. Not if we want even more problems upon our shoulders,” you tried to convene how hopeless the current situation was. There was so much you didn’t want to deal with…

“What do you mean? What way?!” he said with a clear note of hope in his voice. Hope, that you wouldn’t have to die or be sealed away forever for the mistake that wasn’t yours to begin with.

You hesitated to tell him the truth. This had to be done by Sam and him alone, even if you were best friends, who always had each other’s back. You knew that his plan would work, but you didn’t trust Rowena to keep her end of the bargain. You _knew_ she would run away with The Book of The Damned the moment the spell was done and over with.

Dean looked at you again. He saw how your lips were moving a little, a clear sign of hesitation, and wanted to know what was on your mind. Would the answer frighten him or anger him even further? In that case, he would rather not know anything. He still felt the pang of an almost unbearable guilt for making you, the woman he loved with all his being, become the martyr instead of him.

“The Book of The Damned,” was your final answer. When you looked at Dean, you saw his jaw clench. Sam was in deep trouble now because Dean explicitly told him not to use that damn thing, no pun intended.

“Damn it!” he punched the steering wheel, making the car swerve a little. There was no surprise there. “I told him to burn that thing to ashes! What was he thinking?!” You put your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in reassurance.

“He and Cas thought there were no other alternatives, at least none that would leave either you or me alive, that is. And now Sam’s doing everything he can to remove it from me,” you sighed once more,”And to be honest, when I told him not to come looking for me, to leave me alone, he actually looked at me as though I was ripping away his heart. I just couldn’t stand seeing him so devastated.” You quickly blinked your eyes to stop your own tears from falling.

Dean was quick to question you back.”And what about me? Why did you bring me along?” he looked at you in sadness, still hoping you wouldn’t leave him.

“Because we’re both in it. Because we’ve both been under the Mark’s influence. _Because I love you too much to just leave without any explanation_ ,” you spoke the last part quietly.”Besides,” you jokingly huffed,”you would try following me into death anyway, and I won’t let you do it. Not if I can help it.” Instead of squirming under your gaze, he bravely faced you, silently telling you that he would not back down from his promise. The rest of your ride was filled with silence.

* * *

After a while, you finally arrived at your destination. What looked like an abandoned bar was actually the one that Death loved most - at least back when it was people used to go for drinks there. Strangely enough though, the lights were still lit. _‘Huh. Perhaps they’ve been working nonstop since the owner of this place left. Doesn’t look like it was done in a hurry…’_ you thought as you walked out of your car, Dean behind you in tow.

“Oi, where are _you_ going?! Who’s going to bring the ingredients inside?! Me alone?!” you motioned to Baby. He rolled his eyes in response but didn’t object in any way. 

* * *

When you stepped inside, you were met with death-like silence, no pun intended. The place didn’t look or feel eerie though, so you focused only on preparing to summon Death. Before you could begin, you texted Sam to ask about the progress on the Book. Hopefully, it would take awhile for Dean to gather all the things needed for the spell.

**You: What’s the progress, Sam? Is everything alright?**

He replied immediately.

_Sam: We’re fine. We barely managed to get Rowena to agree to perform the spell._

**You: What did she ask from you? No, let me guess - she wants The Book of the Damned. How obvious.**

_Sam: Yes, but not just that. She also wants Nadya’s Codex…and freedom._

**You: Of course. She wouldn’t be able to perform the spells, otherwise. As for the other thing - let her walk free. Now, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want her roaming around freely and doing God knows what, but right now I don’t care about her wants and needs. I know that there’ll be repercussions for this but we’ll deal with them later, just like we always do.**

_Sam: I’m not even sure what we’re doing is the right thing…but I have no other solutions to offer._

**You: There aren’t any. Not ones that wouldn’t turn the world upside down. But there is something bad about it still.**

You glanced outside. Dean was still rummaging through the trunk.

_Sam: What is it?_

**You: You remember what I told you about the Mark when Dean was planning to fight Metatron? The Mark is both a lock and a key. Take away one or both, and what happens, Sammy?**

_Sam:…We’ll unleash something, and it’s not going to be anything good._

**You: You catch on quick. It was made by God for a reason - a reason that we don’t know, but it can’t be anything good like you just said. I have a feeling what that might be but I’m not certain.**

_Sam: We’ll figure something out, Y/N/N. We will._

**You: Sure. Now, let me get back to my plan A.**

_Sam: Wait, what plan A?!_

You put your phone away. You didn’t want to tell anything to him, in case that plan went wrong. You were 99% sure it would. 

* * *

When Dean finally brought everything inside, even the homemade Mexican food, you started drawing a pentagram. Having placed and lit all five candles, you put every ingredient into the metal bowl, chanting the spell all the way. To put a ‘final touch’ to it, Dean lit up a match and threw it into the bowl, ingredients lighting up immediately.

“Well, well, well, I always figured you to be the most sensible one, Miss Ryder. Have you finally considered my proposal?” Death motioned to the Mark on your arm. You looked at it. It was calm, at least for now. “Oh, and is that queso I see?” Dean stepped forward with the tray in his hands.

“Yeah - yes. Homemade by yours truly. All with the bad fat,” he sniffed the food. Normally, you were into spicy food, but right now, you wanted to get this thing over with.

“Consider it an offering,” you walked forward silently. Dean looked at you confusedly.

“For?” he asked. You looked at Death dead in the eye.

“For him to kill me.”

* * *

Death picked up a taquito from the tray, now laying on a table nearby. From the way he was munching upon it, he liked the way it tasted. Dean’s always been a good cook, even if he always liked to downplay his cooking skills.

“Wait, what?! Kill you?!” Dean stared at you incredulously, as though you’ve just done the worst thing you could possibly do, and in a way, you did. Death turned his calm gaze towards him, not even bothering to lift up his eyebrows.

“Yes, that’s what I proposed to do,” he looked at you again,”but you’ve twisted my words a little, my dear. I offered to seal you away. That Mark on your arm is the First Curse - _nothing_ can kill you.”

“So you’re saying that you can’t get rid of it. I get it.”

“Actually, I could,” Death put the food away.

“But…”

“ _Creatio ex nihilo_ \- God created the earth out of nothing - or so your Sunday-school teacher would have you believe.” Death half scoffed at the misinterpretation through religion.

“What, so Genesis is a lie, eh? Shocker,” jabbed in Dean. For a moment, you almost forgot he was there. Death stood up.

“Before there was light, before there was God and the archangels, there wasn’t nothing. There was the Darkness, a horribly destructive, amoral force that was beaten back by God and his archangels in a terrible war,” he walked closer to Dean,”God locked the Darkness away where it could do no harm, and he created a Mark that would serve as both lock and key, which he entrusted to his most valued Lieutenant, Lucifer. But the Mark began to assert its own will, revealed itself as a curse, and began to corrupt. Lucifer became jealous of man. God banished Lucifer to Hell. Lucifer passed the Mark to Cain, who passed the Mark to you, the proverbial finger in the dike,” Death finished the last line in Dean’s face, his stare intense. You gasped.

“I knew it! I knew the Mark had a very dark energy about it! This just confirms everything!” You started pacing around the room.

Dean sat down,”Well, that is just fan-friggin-tastic, isn’t it?”

“So I could remove the Mark, but only if it is shared with another…to ensure that the lock remains unbroken and the Darkness remains banned.” You turned around and raised an eyebrow.

“But we’ve already done so. Haven’t you noticed?” You pointed at your arm.

“Hmmm, what if I told you I could relocate you somewhere far away, not even on this earth, where you would still be alive, but no longer a danger to yourself or to others?”

Suddenly, Sam entered the bar, looking like he’s been running all the way there. Confusion was clear on all your faces.

“What is this?” Dean stepped forward.

“We need to talk.”

Sam walked towards you with his hand stretched out,”Whatever you are thinking of doing, don’t. There is another way. You don’t need to go with him. You don’t need to die!” 

After hearing about Death’s proposal to the Mark issue, he continued,“So, what? He’s gonna… Gonna send you into outer space? Is that it?” You sighed heavily. This wasn’t going to be easy to explain. Thankfully, Dean took the conversation over from you.

“No, well, he didn’t say outer space.”

“This is madness, Dean!”

“You think I don’t know that, Sam?! Of course, it’s madness for her to get sealed away because of what _I’ve_ done!” Dean angrily brushed his hand through his hair.

“Far from it, I’m afraid,” spoke up Death. Sam looked at him coldly.

“No one’s asking you,” Walking up to him, you placed your hand on his forearm.

“Hear him out! _Please._ ”

* * *

 

“Our conundrum is simple, Sam. Your friend cannot be killed, and the Mark cannot be destroyed, not without inciting a far greater evil than any of us have ever known.”

“What evil?” he quietly asked.

“The Darkness.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Well, what does it sound like?” Dean inquired,“Does it sound like a good thing?” All three of you looked at Death, waiting for his answer.

“Even if I remove Y/N from the playing field, we’re still left with you two, loyal, dogged Sam and Dean Winchester, who I suspect will never rest until they set their friend free – will never rest until their friend is free of the Mark, which simply cannot happen, lest the Darkness be set free. Then there was that time you stood me up.” He walked closer to the brothers until he was standing right in front of them. Sam turned to you.

“You traded our lives.” Hurt was etched into Sam’s face, causing your own heart to break.  

You refused to look sad in front of Death as you spoke to Sam,“I never wanted to do that in the first place, but what other choice do I- _we_ have, Sam? I’m willing to live with this thing forever, as long as I know that I and it will never hurt another living being.”

“This isn’t you, Y/N. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“No, it makes perfect sense if you stop thinking about yourself for one damn minute!” You retorted, causing the Mark to flare up immediately.

“It’s for the greater good. Once you consider that, this makes all the sense in the world.” Death was quick to remind you of his presence,”But now…we have this little meeting to finish,” he summoned his scythe, the blade’s edge shining in the dim light. You looked at it uneasily, dread filling up your stomach.

“What are you going to with it?”

He looked at you in surprise, figuring you understood the underlying meaning of his little speech earlier. “Why, kill those two, of course!” The brothers’ backs straightened. Your face contorted in shock and anger.

“What?! No! You don’t have to kill them - just teleport them outside this place!” If it were possible, you were sure Death would have yawned.

“My dear, they are men in love,” he explained,”they would stop at nothing to bring you back. I’ve seen that look before, countless of times.” You turned to look at the brothers, silently raising an eyebrow in question. While Dean wore a mask of shock on his face, clearly surprised by Death’s revelation, Sam, on the other hand, looked guilty and embarrassed. “He’s never once told you of his feelings for you, and why would he? He saw how happy his brother was with you. And so I need to take care of the issue,” Death ran his thumb along the sharp blade before whirling it to an attack position.

In your panic, you let the magic flow from you, the scythe momentarily appearing in your hands. Death was not amused by that.

“Now now, Miss Ryder, please return it to me.” You gripped the scythe firmly in your hands and whirled it a little yourself.

“And why would I do that, exactly? So that you can cut them in pieces? Oh, hell no!” Both of them looked at you in worry, ready to step in, if necessary.

“This is getting more than intolerable,” Death’s face turned into a sneer, which would frighten anyone that came across him. He lunged at you, but before he could reach you, you stabbed him with the blade. He looked at you in mild shock, not having expected you to do that. Same with the Winchesters.

You, on the other hand, looked horrified.

* * *

 

“You okay?” asked Dean cautiously, as you were still holding Death’s scythe. Realising he was speaking to you, you dropped the blade. You felt like it would actually sting you if you held it longer.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” you spoke resignedly,”The whole plan just went to Hell in a handbasket!” You flipped over a table in frustration. The moment Death turned to ashes, you felt your heart stop. His death wasn’t that shocking to you, but the mere _failure_ of your plan was. Suddenly, you heard a shrieking sound from outside.

“Wait, guys, do you hear that?”

“What?” said Sam. All of a sudden, a red lightning bolt crashed through the roof, stricking your forearm.  Both your arm and the Mark glowed red as itcrackled until the Mark faded away from your skin. Then the lightning flew back the way it came just as suddenly.

“What. The. Hell. Was. That?” Sam brought you into a tight hug.

“This is good. Y/N, this is good. The – the Mark is off your arm. Nothing crazy happened.”

“Yet. You mean yet.” Before Sam could reply, Dean pointed at the dark cloud moving towards you.

“I think we need to go. Now.” With that, you ran out of the bar, and jumped into Baby. Just as you tried to outrun that thing, the car hit a blasted pothole, making it impossible to drive. You all watch incredulously as the cloud roars towards you for several seconds, before enveloping the car in the darkness.

“Sam?”

“Dean?!

“Y/N!”

* * *

 

The last thing you heard before losing consciousness was a female voice speaking through the darkness.

_“Hello, my saviour. I’ve been waiting such a long time to be free.”_


	3. Chapter 2 - At least I have some dignity

_**???’s P.O.V.** _

_**Unknown location, 1986  
** _

__

_The room she was put in was as cold as it was damp. The silence was deafening. Well, if one didn’t take the sound of water dripping from a broken pipe on the wall into account. Or was the pipe even on a wall? She couldn’t tell._

_She remembered reading some kind of book, maybe a spellbook, before she heard a distinct ‘whap’ to the back of her head and everything went black. Her head hurt slightly at the memory, causing her to wince._

_Suddenly, she was splashed with ice-cold water, making her gasp in shock. One blink. Two blinks. She could see a man standing in front of her as her vision focused. Not a very tall one but still quite intimidating. She could see along angry scar across his left eye and cheek. ‘Got it from a werewolf no doubt,’ she thought, as she tried to look at him from under furrowed eyebrows. Her head was still dizzy and throbbing - definitely throbbing._

_“Wakey wakey, baby! Have a long long chat to have with you,” the man spoke playfully, his voice a rather pleasant baritone. Smooth ‘n silky._

_She gave no answer. It wasn’t her first rodeo, but something told her that it wouldn’t be her last one either. Instead, she coldly stared at him, her piercing gaze drilling into his emotionless eyes._

_“Hmm, what? A cat got your tongue? Perhaps. Or…,” he paused, ”your precious little hunter accidentally swallowed it while eating at your face?!” his laughter echoed on the walls. She kept holding her tongue. He wasn’t worth heeding. But, he continued. Apparently being one of those people who loved to hear their own voice._

_“No matter, I’ll make you talk. One way or another.”_

_Before she could stop herself, her mouth readily answered him, “Is that so?” The mysterious man clapped his hands in triumph._

_“Ahh, so she actually speaks! I was starting to think you that you couldn’t talk because you were mute, but I’m glad that it’s not true. Let’s begin,”he pulled out a chair in front of her tied up form and sat, resting his arms on the back. He pulled out an old photo from his grey suit jacket. It was a photo of her and Alec, walking together in a secluded park, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere around them.’How could he have found us?’ she wondered. Given the date on the photo, it was taken a year ago, when they weren’t on the run yet._

_“Judging by your facial expression, I’d say that you know what I’m showing you.” She scoffed._

_“You haven’t even given me your name, asshole!” she spat at his shiny brogues. If he was annoyed, he didn’t outwardly show it._

_“Oh, I haven’t, now have I? Trust me, little girl, you needn’t know that. It’s not necessary.”_

_“What, you’re afraid that when I get out of here, I’ll keep looking for you? Because, oh, yes, I will!” He let out a humourless chuckle._

_“If you get out of here, my dear. If,” He stood up to pick up a sharp looking knife from a table nearby. She knew what would happen if she didn’t talk. She knew that torture would last as long as needed for him to get the information from her. But, she couldn’t die just yet. She had a lot of things to do before then._

_“What is it that you want from me, exactly?”_

_“Your cooperation.”_

_She sat in silence, her gaze piercing through his twisted eyes, waiting for him to continue._

_“I’ll take your silence as a ‘yes’ then,” he walked closer to her. ”You see, your hunter made a huge mistake by betraying our trust - by betraying everything we hold sacred! When a Man of Letters takes on a monster, he kills it. He doesn’t stop to question its motives, wants, and needs. He eliminates them.” She tilted her head in realization._

_“So you want my help with finding him, I take it?”_

_“Bingo!”_

_“And why would I want to betray his trust, dickhead?!” The man scoffed at her choice of words._

_“How rude! Didn’t your parents tell you not to be rude to strangers? If you wish to call me something, anything at all, then call me ‘Ace’. Anyway,” he sighed, ”yes, I want to know where Alec is. Apparently, his grandfather refuses to cooperate with us, even if he’s one of our own. Said only that his son has cut off all ties with him, and wonders now out in the open, refusing to face repercussions for his misdeeds.”_

_“You call saving innocents ‘misdeeds’?! The ‘monsters’ he let go have done nothing! They haven’t killed any people! They were simply trying to lead normal lives!” Ace twirled the knife in his hand._

_“Normal, huh? I wouldn’t call them ‘normal’. They were time-bombs, just waiting to go off and kill someone. No, he shouldn’t have let them live. He. Made. A. Mistake!” he hissed out the words in her face, emphasizing every word he spoke. She knew it wasn’t true. She met every single one of them, making sure that everything they said about themselves was true. Alec was not the kind of man to let innocents be punished for the things they didn’t do. He just wasn’t. And she wasn’t either._

_While she was aware that Alec’s family was part of the American Men of Letters, she didn’t know that her lover was inducted into their order. Or was he? Sure, his own father was practically pressured into accepting their ‘invitation’ back in the fifties, but this? ‘If they think that Alec’s trouble, then something must be very wrong,’ she thought as the rope around her wrists bit into her skin._

_She had to get out of here._

_Seeing her struggle, ‘Ace’ quickly stepped to her side, pulling her hair. She snarled at his touch as her anger built up inside her. Why were they doing this? Why were they after Alec? Where the hell was everyone else?_

_“Let’s not get hasty, baby doll!” She rolled her eyes at his excessive use of the word ‘baby’ towards her. He didn’t seem to catch it.  “The more you struggle, the more painful this process will be,” he jerkily let go of her hair, giving her a moment to breathe. In her anger, she completely forgot about the pain. More often than not, it blinded her, but sometimes, she felt such a sweet release as if she had taken a snort of a premium-class cocaine. It felt good._

_Before she knew it, two men had seized her by arms and brought her over to a larger room on the other end of the corridor. ‘Do Men of Letters actually own all of the-,’ she was cut off by a feminine scream from somewhere east of her - if it actually was east. It brought shivers down her spine. She did not expect these men to be that ruthless. She only ever heard of the Men of Letters being bookworms who relied on hunters._

_One of the unnamed men pulled on her arm, making her stop. The second guy walked over to the intercom, undoubtedly reporting her transfer to someone else. On her right, there was a metal door with a very small window. When she peeked inside, she wished she could unsee the sight before her bloodshot eyes._

* * *

 

_Another girl was lying on the floor, curled into the fetal position. Her sobs were muffled by her body. To her surprise, it seemed like that girl had a thousand cuts on her, undoubtedly from a sharp end of a knife. When she stopped shaking and uncurled her body, the girl looked at her, staring into her eyes pleadingly. She shook her head in refusal. That girl would not get any help from her that day, no matter how harsh that sounded. She needed to be freed first._

_She was glad that the ‘guards’ didn’t notice her looking around, or they would surely do something nasty to her. This place wasn’t meant for people like that girl, because she was not a monster. She was completely innocent, and yet, they still had brought her here, undoubtedly to question her about Alec. He was Men of Letters’ target number one, after all._

_“Why are you doing this?” she suddenly asked the question out loud. The man holding her answered first._

_“We have to find him.”_

_“By senselessly torturing innocents?! Are you all nuts?!”_

_He squeezed her arm painfully, ”Make no mistake, woman, these here are NOT innocents! If they were, the wardings wouldn’t alert us.”_

_“Still, to cut them all up like that…,” she shook her head as she trailed off. The mere sight of those people being hurt, made her blood boil._

_“If you think we’ve stepped low, think about your hunter. He’s done things far worse.” She was jerked forward into a small torture chamber surrounded by thick concrete walls where no-one would hear her screams. How lovely that sounded._

_‘Ace’ stood by the steel table, motioning for the men to strap her on it. She knew that struggling was futile but she had to attempt breaking free. Damn the iron chain around her ankle! Without a word, the men left, leaving the two of them alone and in silence. One didn’t have to look around in order to see that sadistic gleam in ‘Ace’s’ eyes. He took a hold of a thin but very sharp carving blade._

_“Will you talk, or will you not? That’s the question!” His attempt at making a joke fell flat, as she did not find it all amusing._

_“You see, I really don’t want to start carving up a tiny witch like you, but I simply have no choice here. If Alec continues to refuse to surrender, we will have to finish you off, baby-doll.”_

_“He will not come back to you,” she rebutted calmly._

_“If he doesn’t, our whole order will hunt him down. Wherever he decides to go. He will never be safe again.”_

_“Tell me why I don’t believe you. Do you really think you can fool me into believing all the crap you’re saying.” she exclaimed, “The rest of the American Men of Letters are not as vindictive as you!” Momentarily, the knife was pressed to her throat, cutting it slightly open. A dark rivulet of blood slid down from the cut. She wasn’t afraid. She would not be afraid._

_“A smart one over here. Heh, I wondered how long it would take for you to figure it out.” The realization hit her hard._

_“Abbadon!”_

_“In the flesh, or the flesh of this guy anyway…It doesn’t matter how I look, it matters only that I have the hands to do whatever I want with you, baby-doll,” her, no ‘his’, fake southern drawl echoed through the room. The air was becoming too tense for her liking. No matter how hard she tried to tug or wiggle out of her restraints everything was futile. She wasn’t going to break free.  Abbadon smirked at her struggling._

_“It would be too easy for you to break free if we didn’t tie you up, now wouldn’t it? And to think, you can’t even use your magic! Pathetic!”_

_She spit in Abbadon’s face, not that it would do anything in favour of her release. Even though Knights of Hell were much more intelligent and stronger than the regular grunts, they could still be defeated.  In her current condition, it would be one damn feat to accomplish. Had Alec been here, he would know what to do, but he wasn’t, and she couldn’t reveal his location to anyone. Not to someone like Abbadon._

_“I’ve already told you: I. Won’t. Talk.”_

_“And you don’t have to. After I’m done with you, Alec will come to me on his own, like a moth to a flame.” Abbadon plunged the knife into her thigh. A blood-curdling scream burst from her chest. The worst thing was that no-one was there except the demon to hear them. Oh, how she wished she had taken up Alec’s offer to train her in withstanding physical pain. She knew she was a fool - a total utter fool._

_Abbadon seemingly took pleasure in her pain, ‘his’ eyes gleaming brightly like jewels, ”Wanna know why I’m doing this? You wanna?!” The knife was dragged down the thigh._

_As much as the woman wanted to hold her screams, the pain proved to be too much for her to bear, ”Ahhhh!” she took a couple of shaky breaths.”Y-yes…y-yes, I do.” Abbadon smiled a pearly-white smile. Which, if one were to look closer, would notice it being sadistic and rather inhuman._

_“Very well, then. You know, these Men of Letters are just a bunch of pesky little hunters who just don’t know how to stop being annoying! They research everything there is about supernatural, and then hunt us all down!”_

_“As…you should be.”_

_*Slap*_

_“Silence! What I want is their knowledge - everything they have in their tomes and notes. And Henry Winchester was courteous enough to let me in. Of course, I snuck in by using some nun’s body, who was oh-so-desperate to prevent me from possessing him. And then I had a much better idea: What if I used one their own to cause chaos within their ranks? This would throw them off my back.” She walked around the table, twirling the knife in her hand, “Well, at least until one of them would figure it out. But then, I heard that one of the best hunters that ever existed, Alec Ryder, was accused of letting a monster go.” She shrugged,“So my priorities changed a little. It’s better to kill two birds with one stone, is it not? With him and all the rest of the Men of Letters dead, nothing would prevent me from taking everything from their bunker and destroying it!” She raised her hands slightly in triumph.“And now with you here, I can-,” she was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door. Abbadon looked at it in annoyance._

_“What is it?!”_

_“Your presence is needed, Manning. Henry is asking for you.” Abbadon looked at her tortured body, seemingly in contemplation. Then suddenly the knife was yanked out of her thigh, which would have given her at least some form of a sweet release, but both her mind and her body were far too numb to respond to the action._

_“Tell him I’ll be there soon!” ‘he’, or rather Manning, shouted back. Then Abbadon turned back to her, ”And as for you, baby-doll, I’ll. Be. Back,” the demon’s voice turned into a whisper at the end. What was said was both a threat and a promise. One that Abbadon would make good on. When the door shut, so did her mind - her last thought being of Alec._


	4. Zombie Apocalypse? (1/2)

**_Stonehenge, England, 1999_ **

 

_If an artist or a philosopher were to be asked whether or not the meadow was beautiful, the answer would be ‘Yes, it is.’ Being away from your home was something that occurred quite often. Satisfying your wild spirit and yearning to be free from everything. If it were up for your mother, she would most definitely leave you all locked up inside your bedroom. She never liked you running about in the open._

_Alec, on the other hand, was more willing to see you enjoy nature and sunlight, sprinting here and there with glee like you would usually see when kids are being given presents at Christmas. He was calm and cautious by nature, never doing anything reckless, unless the situation demanded it. While he was happy to be there for you, loving you like he had never loved anyone before, even your mother, he was sure as hell worried about what the future had in store for you._

_The deal your mother had made did a huge blow to your family, the Ryders. It should never have happened and yet, she still did it for reasons unknown. That was one thing Alec would never forgive her for. Still, he could never have been more than happy to see you here being the only ray of sunshine in his dark life. He was tired. Tired of being hunted by people he had once called ‘friends’. Tired of being an attack dog, held back by the British Men of Letters’ tight leash. And he was sure as hell tired of being a good-for-nothing of a father to you, his only daughter. This life, a lifetime hunting of monsters, was not something he wanted to give you, but he had nothing. His custom-made M1911, his code of honour, and his undying love for you were all he had._

 

_And that love? It was love that would eventually get him killed._

  


You were out of breath when you reached your father. He gave one of the warmest smiles you had ever seen him give, opening up his arms for a hug. Alec felt as though a cannonball had crushed into his chest.

“Woah there, little one! Don’t break your pops’ ribs!” Your smile was one of mischief.

“As if I would be capable of actually doing that!.”

“Oh, one day you will be. Just you wait!” This was enough to send you into a fit of giggles, which may or may not have dragged him into a fit of his own. Such moments of happiness were rare for you. The main ‘issue’ being your mother, who didn’t seem to allow you being happy at all, wanting to keep you inside your mansion and train you in the ways of witchcraft. Her tyranny caused you to refuse to speak to her, undoubtedly giving her another headache with your antics. This didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy learning about magic with her though.

Your father poked at your side, pulling you from you back to reality.  

“You still there, Y/N/N?”

“Huh, what?”

“Your eyes got all misty all of a sudden. Thought you got lost in thought or something,” he spoke quietly, like a thief trying to share a secret.

“I was just thinking about us,” you answered with a shrug.

“Us?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you closer to him, your head resting under his chin, “What exactly, little one?”

“The way we are never really happy, papa. We move around a lot, some people always come knocking on our door and asking about whether or not you have finished your ‘job’, and mother still behaves like a cold-hearted bitch towards me-”

“ _Where_ did you learn these words?!” Alec was immediately alert, thinking about what could have happened between you and your mother this time. He just couldn’t bear hearing about another one of your spats, that usually force him to become the ‘ultimate peacemaker’ between you.

“It’s what she does, papa. What she _always_ does...” Alec contemplated telling you a comforting lie, but he knew that you would recognize it as one the moment he uttered it.

“I can’t believe her!” he whisper-yelled, “Why can’t she accept you?!”

“I don’t know.”

“It is not like her to be so cold-hearted,” he murmured to himself.

“When was she ever happy? Oh, let me guess, before I was born. Right?”

He didn’t know how to answer your question, instead just letting it hang open in the air. Indeed, when was the last time he had seen his love happy? She’d lost that spark since they had to go on the run from the Men of Letters back in the US. He had no idea how to reignite it. She had closed herself off to both himself and you entirely. While, sure, it didn’t do you any good in any parenting terms, at least she was still alive, or so Alec liked to think.

 

As the sun continued to beam down on you both, you fell into a semi-comfortable silence, each in your own thoughts. Life - _your_ life - wasn’t easy. For hunters and witches like you it never was, and yet you had to carry on, for the sake of other people who didn’t believe in supernatural. But the blood on Alec’s hands did not make it easy - for _him_.

He despised killing people. Sounds simple, right? But it’s not.

Not only did his hands shake when he pointed his gun at people, he also couldn’t look in the eyes of his ‘victims’. Killing was messy. Killing was heartless. Killing was inhumane. But those were not the words of his new ‘comrades’ because their preferred term was: ‘It isn’t killing when it comes to monsters - whether human or not.

He didn’t want such life for you, but he knew that you would get thrown into it anyway, even if he were kicking and screaming like a madman.

 

* * *

 

**_Present, 2015_ **

 

Darkness. It was all you could ‘see’ in front of you. The moment the cloud’s dark tendrils engulfed you, you could only feel its coldness and stare at vast nothingness. While normally you weren’t afraid of the dark, hunting having made it impossible to feel that way, it still felt unnerving to you. _Nothing_ about this was normal.

Trying to remain calm, you wailed your arms around, hoping to touch something - _anything_ that might calm your nerves. You needed to be grounded, no matter if what you touched would turn out to be a tree or a rock. You knew you were at least standing on solid ground.

But then you remembered those strange few words that echoed inside your head just before you lost consciousness. The voice belonged to a woman. It was both calm and soothing, like a fluffy blanket that you wrap around yourself when it gets cold. And yet, when you try to squint your eyes in the thick dark smoke, you see her standing there - tall, shoulders relaxed, and her own gaze fixed on someone beside her, who was looking around rather wildly. _‘Dean!_ ’ your mind whispered, trying to see what was happening. When you looked at him more closely, you saw him staring at the woman in confusion, not knowing who she was or what she was doing.

“Hey! The hell's going on?!” he shouted at her, already feeling for his gun that wasn’t there. She said nothing, only looking into his eyes, with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. Suddenly, her head snapped towards you, cautiously approaching them like a hunter would approach its prey. Dean’s face lit up in surprise, happy to see you there but confused at your presence at the same time. You kept your eyes on her, observing and calculating your next move. Something in the back of your mind told you that doing anything rash would only anger the stranger in  front of you. Without a word, she turned around and walked back into the darkness. Before either you or Dean could utter a word, you blacked out.

 

*****

 

Sam woke up with one hell of a headache. The only thing he saw before something knocked him out was an enormous dark cloud, heading towards the Impala at a great speed, engulfing everything in its way. All three of you tried to get away, but the car had hit a damn pot hole. He groaned when he touched his face, feeling a cut that wasn’t there before. Maybe he hit his face against the car door, he thought as he slowly looked around, not spotting neither you nor Dean. The only thing left to do was to get out of there.

Everything seemed normal. Slight breeze was blowing, both the car and the bar were still there, and not a soul around, except for him. Figuring that it was useless to drive around in search for both you and his brother, he went south towards the rolling hills. He prayed that he would find you there.

The next thing he saw, when he finally came up the hill, were your bodies, lying on the ground unconscious. He ran as fast as he could.

“Hey! Hey! You two okay?“ he asked as knelt down to touch your shoulders, shaking them a little.

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling relief when you recognized Sam’s baritone voice.

“Yeah...we’re okay, or as okay as we can be, I suppose,” you whispered because your throat felt like you’d just swallowed a sandpaper.

“Where's the car?” Dean spoke from beside you, already on his feet. He put out a hand to help you up, which you gratefully took. He gave you a reassuring squeeze.

“I-i-it's . . . About a mile that way.”

“What?”

Sam stared at him indignantly, “Seriously? The -- the darkness hit. You disappeared. You remember none of this?”

You gave him a look, “Of course we remember, Sam. We’ve just been there!”

“She saved us.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to look confused.

“What? Who?”

You and Dean looked at each other, “ _The Darkness_.”

  
*****  


“Hold on, so what happened back there, exactly?” inquired Sam as you all hit the road again.

You looked in the rearview mirror at Dean, silently asking for help. You wanted to tell him yourself, but your throat still felt too constricted to speak.

“She saved us, I told you that already.”

“Wait a second. What do you mean, she saved you?”

“You were there. When the storm hit, everything went dark.”

Sam waved his arms around, as if emphasizing how incredulous that situation was, “Yeah, but you just disappeared from the car.”

Dean glanced at him, shaking his head in denial, “I don't even remember that.”

Then Sam looked at you but you shook your head as well. You were too out of consciousness to remember any of it, but if you were to take a guess, and you were sure that you’d be right, you’d say that she had just teleported you out of the Impala.

“Well, I don't remember some woman pulling you out.”

“Well, what do you want me to say, okay? Y/N and I were in the car, and then we weren't in the car. We were in the field, and she was there. Just standing.”

“She was observing us,” you croaked, sitting up in the backseat. You cleared your throat before continuing, “or maybe assessing us even. From what I could gather, she was looking at us with both familiarity and curiosity, as though she knew who we were.”

“And she told you she was the darkness.”

Dean was quick to deny such a claim, “No. She was wearing a nametag. What do you think? She thanked us.” Now that was something you didn’t quite hear her saying. Her? Being grateful to you? Perhaps there _was_ something in it because Death had explained to you how the Mark was tied to her and vice versa, and after removing it, she was released from her confines, undoubtedly ready to rain destruction upon the world.

Sam brought you out of your reverie, “For what?”

“Setting her free.”

“You didn't set her free. _I_ set her free.” You frowned at Sam’s response. Indeed, it _was_ his idea to use the Book of The Damned, but there simply was no other choice. For a witch of your caliber, you were sure as hell frustrated when you couldn’t find a solution to that problem. But, what’s done is done, and you have to continue playing with the cards given, even if they’re stacked against you.

“Does it matter? I mean, yeah, you said the spell, but Y/N had the Mark, so lock and key.”

“But then there’s the question as to how both you disappeared. The Mark was on Y/N’s arm.”

You answered him before Dean could, “Dean was the bearer of it before I was, Sam, so my guess is that both of us were simply connected to it, and subsequently her. What that means for us exactly, however, I don’t know.”

“So, what, now she feels indebted to you or something?”

“I don't know. She's a Darkness. Does she feel anything?” mumbled Dean.

”And that's all she said? Thanks?”

”Yeah. She was weird. But she had this energy about her, this -- this focus. But, yeah, not a talker.”

“So, we know Jack.” For some reason, you found Sam’s response funny, smirking in the backseat. Boy, were you glad that they didn’t notice it.

“Well, we know what she looks like, and we know that she's evil. The question is, what does she know? I mean, she's been locked away since the beginning of time. Does she even know what a cheeseburger is? All I know is that we set her free, and we're gonna put her back in, no matter what it takes,” said Dean, just as Baby hit another pothole, “What the . . . ,” he got out to take a look at the car. “Well, that’s just _awesome_!”

You couldn’t help but let out a snorting laugh.

 

After Dean’s statement it got quiet in the car, with you occasionally asking them where you three were, seeing as you were laying on your back in the backseat. During your ride, Dean checked upon you several times, even with Sam offering to drive Baby to let him turn around without putting them all in danger. Of course, the only response he got was a grumpy ‘I got it.’

Soon though, the car stopped.

“What, is there a roadblock or something?” you inquired while slowly sitting upright. Sam glanced back at you.

“Yeah, actually.”

All of you got immediately out of the car. The road seemed eerily quiet with no sound reaching your ears. When you got a little bit closer, you saw dead bodies strewn all over the road. It wasn’t a particularly gruesome sight as you didn’t see any blood around them. Instead, you noticed thick black veins on their arms and necks, that for some reason, reminded you of the late Croatoan virus.

“You all seeing what I’m seeing?” you turned around to look at the brothers. Both of them had their guns out, in case of danger. You weren’t  so sure that the bullets would stop the infected though, as the ‘infection’ itself was obviously unnatural.

“What the hell happened here?”

There was an unmistakable sound of footsteps ahead of you. It didn’t quite help that the cars obstructed your vision and made it harder to see the person approaching. As they got closer, it turned out that it was a construction worker. ‘ _At least it is not a cliche teenager or something…,’_ your mind supplied.

Dean cocked his gun at him, “Oh, that's not a happy sight. Hey, easy, buddy. Just stay cool till we figure out what's going here, okay?” The creepy guy continued to approach you, “Kind of narrowing my options here.”

“We don’t even know what he is.”

“You don’t say, Sam!” you retorted. You knew how he was holding himself back from giving you his ‘bitch face’. _Y/N 1, Sam 0._

Suddenly, a shot rang out from behind of the cars, making you focus your attention again. Slowly, a woman walked forward towards you, shotgun raised.

“Weapons on the ground. Slow.”

Dean tried to diffuse the situation, not wanting to accidentally get you, him, or Sam shot, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy, officer. We're FBI, okay? We got badges.” _That_ made you give him an incredulous look. He didn’t notice it, the bastard…

The deputy only pumped her shotgun, “Don't. Show me some skin.” She was only met with the brothers’ confused ‘Huh?’ and ‘What?’. You, however, didn’t hesitate to pull down your collar, exposing your neck.

“Is this, like, a "Magic Mike" moment?” asked Dean enthusiastically.

“Your throats!”

“Oh, you think we're -- we're . . . Look, we don't even know what these are.”

“I need to know you're not one of 'em.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, “One of what?”

Before she could answer, you heard moans from all around you, indicating that the infected were still very much around. She pointed her shotgun down a little.

“Let’s go!”

“Okay, all right, look. Huh? See?” Dean pulled down his own collar, with Sam following his action. Once they did so, the deputy gave a satisfied nod.

“Good. Let's see those IDs.”

“Yeah, whoa. All right, take -- take it easy, okay?” he pointed at her own wound, still bleeding profusely. “Bad guys?”

“Rebar. I sought cover. I fell,” she explained rather offhandedly. Another person not caring about their own injury. Just what you needed to see that day.

“Okay. Why don't you tell us what happened here?”

“911 reported a family in distress. I arrived to find several hostiles attacking said family. Oh, God, it was horrible.” The Winchesters put their guns away, and Jenna, as she gave you her name, put away her own shotgun.

“How long you been on the job, deputy?”

“Uh . . . Okay, three weeks.”

“Well, that’s not long,” you quietly remarked.

“Yeah…”

Dean was quick to take over again, “Okay, ah. I'm Dean. This is Sam and Y/N. Just breathe. Okay? Speak plain. What happened?”

Jenna took a deep breath, “They killed them all.”

“Who?” questioned Sam.

“Road crew. It was -- they were like rabid dogs. I fired off a warning, but they didn't stop. They…”

“You killed all these?” Dean pointed at the bodies. Jenna nodded.

“I knew some of the boys, but they didn't look -- something was wrong. They were...“

“They're not human.”

Jenna looked on the verge of collapse, and Dean stepped forward, in case she fainted, “Hey, look, Y/N can stitch that up, but, uh, it's gonna be ugly, seeing as we have lost our own first aid kit. You got a hospital around here?“

“Up the road.“

“All right. Here we go.“

 

You gave one last look at the bodies, before all four of you piled back into Baby. You knew that it was only a beginning of the Darkness’ trail of destruction.

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
